


All that is between us

by loonydoc



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Jon Snow knows nothing, Light Angst, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, also caught in a slow burn romance, dany is not having their shit, dany wants an heir, jon and sansa are so cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 14:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonydoc/pseuds/loonydoc
Summary: Response to this tumblr prompt, "Jon x Sansa are put in a political alliance as K+Q iTN and Dany As QitS, then Dany comes up being all “it’s been ages, where our heirs at?” And in the time before she shows up Jon x San been having secret feels and San gets frustrated and goes all ‘screw this I’m tired of sitting round doing nothing, I’m bloody going for it’ and starts pulling a well executed Margaery.Jon gets jealous coz he thinks it’s for someone else (also done before, but…) then Dany rocks up and catches on to what her home girl up to and starts screwing with Jon because she can’t fathom how one individual could possibly know this much nothing).Then for some reason he thinks Dany wants him (coz he’s brave and strong but knows nothing about women), but then she’s all like 'what? bro, na, I’d prefer your wife, and since you don’t seem interested…’ But then he gets annoyed and pulls finger then smut."Started off as a prompt fill but I'm afraid it's taken a life of it's own.





	1. Prologue

Dany took a large gulp of wine and a long breath, “This is preposterous”

“My queen,” Tyrion began.

“Do not make excuses for your ex-wife and her stupid husband, I never thought I would live to see the day when I would have to force a man to take his wife to bed” she fumed.

“Yes, I-“

“I can’t seem to escape a single day from the tedious job of governing my kingdom, the noble houses are filled with simpering idiots, what’s left of my army has taken it upon themselves to whore and drink themselves to death, the smallfolk are enmeshed in petty squabbles and to add to this my nephew,” she spat venomously, “my one remaining relative, is a bloody fool!”

Tyrion looked at her with a glint of amusement in his eyes, it only irritated her further.

“I’m taking matters into my own hands, when have I left anything to chance? I am Daenerys Targaryen, I will have an heir even if it means I have to chain my nephew and his wife to their bed.”

Tyrion looked wary.

“We leave for Winterfell tomorrow Lord Hand.” She declared grimly.

“Well then I look forward to spending my days freezing my arse off in the gloom of the North.” Tyrion drained his goblet. “I best be off then Your Grace, I daresay gathering the requisite amount of furs to keep us alive there will take the rest of the day.”

Dany only vaguely heard Tyrion’s griping, she was seething. Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t care how long it took Jon to find his bollocks, but these were not normal circumstances. The defeat of the White Walkers brought peace to the kingdom for a time, but the long winter had taken it’s toll on everyone. Petty squabbles had broken out amongst the people and she herself had found that once the glorious feeling of success had worn off, she somehow felt empty inside. She was back home, she had her throne, her people still worshipped her but something was missing. Her mind drifted once more to the image of her son in the arms of her beloved Khal. She thought about them often these days and a part of her longed for the time when she would meet them again. 

She shook herself out of it, she had a duty to her people. She didn’t sacrifice her sun and stars and her womb to leave imbeciles to destroy what she had fought for her whole life to gain. She would rebuild this country, she would see that it prospered but she needed to give the people something to live for. She needed them to see that they were working to make this world a better place for their children. A chubby, giggling infant would boost their spirits.

She wasn’t going to get one out of Jon and Sansa for the next decade if her nephew’s most recent letter was anything to go by. He had once again stated that they were ‘making progress’ and he wanted to give his cousin ‘some more time to find her peace’ before they started ‘the process of making an heir’. Utter nonsense.

Dany had last met them six moons prior at Winterfell, already half a year after their marriage. The Lady Sansa appeared to be quite happy once she had got past her initial reticence in the company of Dany. She had made her feel welcome at Winterfell despite the castle’s dreary appearance. She was witty and charming, and dealt with matters of ruling with a quiet dignity quite contrary to Dany’s own style. She did however completely clam up when mentions of her past were made, even in private. Never was she impolite, but the air seemed to turn cold at the mention of her time spent at King’s Landing, the Vale, or her brief tenure as Lady Bolton. She seemed to glow at the mention of her family however, Dany had been regaled with many a tale of the dead Starks and she had told some of her own about the time spent with the Dothraki. At the mention of the sole living Stark though, her demeanour had changed. When Dany had enquired about Jon she had blushed the color of her hair and seemed at a loss for words, twisting her hands in her skirts and losing some of her poise, an altogether rare occurrence for the impeccably put together Lady Stark. Jon himself had had quite a similar reaction when he was asked how he was getting along with his wife. It had been so amusing to see the quiet, gruff warrior pink up that Dany had actually started laughing out loud. She had then offered Tyrion’s services to help him understand how to pleasure a woman at which he had made an excuse about remembering an important matter he had to tend to and actually sprinted away.

It was quite obvious in their actions that the two cared for each other. Jon was on a relentless campaign to make sure she was pampered. Every meal had a dish she enjoyed, he had an extra blanket with him when they went on a ride in case she got cold. Once, while descending a flight of stairs of which the last three were broken, he nimbly skipped ahead then turned back, lifted her by the waist and gently placed her at the landing. Dany had rolled her eyes and Sansa had looked quite embarrassed but Jon was oblivious, as usual.

Sansa hadn’t been much better, revelling in performing mundane tasks that Dany was sure she’d never do even if she had a husband to love. Fussing over his clothing and tending to his minor scrapes and cuts. She’d once spent an entire afternoon with them during which Sansa had occupied herself with Jon’s hair, brushing it for nearly an hour and massaging his scalp before tying it in the typical fashion that he wore, while Jon sat placidly enjoying her attentions. 

Yet when Dany had casually mentioned that the castle would seem brighter with half a dozen little ones running amok, both had blushed furiously and stared in opposite directions. The tension between them had been so thick that one could cut it with a knife and use it to butter their toast. After that it seemed as if every second they spent together, one was not-so-secretly staring at the other. They had always kept separate rooms and now avoided entering each other’s bedchambers like the plague. Yes, it had been entertaining then, but now it was getting ridiculous. There was no reason for them to avoid their duties to the realm. Mind made up and plan of action laid out Dany finished off the flagon of Arbor Gold. She’d have a babe to spoil by this time next year, she was sure of it.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet our favorite couple at Winterfell.

Jon stood in the practice yard, blunt blade in hand, dressed in a simple linen tunic and breeches made by Sansa. He was instructing his newest batch of recruits, a varied bunch, all different sizes and shapes. They had decided that every boy and girl who desired to learn the art of swordsmanship, irrespective of their birth, would have a chance at learning it. Those that displayed talent were allowed to squire for knights and eventually, if they proved themselves worthy, be given knighthoods of their own. There would be a place for everyone in the new world he and Sansa built together and no one would be punished for their heritage or gender. He had appointed a capable master-at-arms, one of the few who had survived the Second War for the Dawn, a sturdy northman, but he enjoyed overseeing the training himself. It reminded him of the time spent with his brothers at the wall, before the world was hurled into darkness. The Wall didn’t exist anymore and neither did the Night’s Watch and his black brothers were so long gone he could scarcely remember their faces.

“Keep your shields up! Eddie, your stance is improving; Mara good footwork”

The little ones seemed to perk up at his words of encouragement, he remembered a time when his little brothers and sister would do the same. He saw them in every muddy face, none of them were here now. He wondered if he would ever find out what happened to Bran and Arya.

He was pulled out of his reverie by the feeling of being watched, he turned around and looked up. Sansa was standing atop the balcony overlooking the practice yard, a vision in dove grey velvet, the neckline of which he knew was trimmed with delicate white lace that gently brushed her long neck. He noticed she was without her cloak, cheeks pink and lips reddened in the cold, hair pulled up in her typical northern braids so that her ears were exposed.

“My Lady,” he grinned “you are not wearing your cloak. You will catch a chill.”

Her mouth widened in a beautiful smile.

“I am better protected than you are my Lord,” she said, tilting her chin out to gesture at his lack of warm attire, “besides I am of the North, the cold does not affect me, as I believe is the case with you.”

“Aye, you are correct”

“Do you know if the shipment of food rations has arrived yet from White Harbor?” she asked, leaning against the wooden railing.

“Yes with promises of another in a week’s time, it seems that the harvests are finally picking up.”

“That it is good news.”

“Indeed.”

Jon continued to look up at her and she at him, but when she didn’t say anything more he scrambled to find another topic to speak about.

“So, any news from the ravens this morning?”

“I spoke with Sam after we broke our fast, but nothing beyond the usual correspondences about trade,” she responded, not breaking her gaze. She continued to look at him, expectantly? He wondered, a curious warmth in his chest and a desire to fiddle with a loose thread on his sleeve rising to the surface.

“Would you join me for a walk my Lady?” he asked, suddenly breathless despite not having exerted himself physically.

Her cheeks seemed to get pinker for a moment before she replied, “Gladly.” She turned to walk down to the yard.

Jon felt immensely pleased with himself for no particular reason. He dropped the dull sword to the ground and began walking to the entrance of the yard where Sansa would emerge any second. His path was blocked by Ser Davos coming out of nowhere.

“Your grace, I wanted to speak to you about Tormund Giantsbane’s behaviour.”

“Not now, Ser Davos, we will discuss this at a later time.”

He breezed past, mildly irritated at his subjects for interrupting him all the time. Sansa emerged from the entrance and another smile broke onto his lips. Her eyes always reflected the color of her dress and the sky. On this cold morning with her grey gown they were so light blue that they almost appeared grey. Nevertheless, they still held a strange light that made it impossible for him to turn his away.

“Jon.” He always loved it when she called him by name.

“Sansa.” He offered her his arm, he had always found the tradition odd. He knew Sansa could walk perfectly well without his arm, but something inside him always made him want to do it and now it was a habit that he could not break.

She took his proffered arm as she always did, hand coming to rest in the crook of his elbow, shoulder brushing his. He turned his head to look at her face, she turned her own to meet his eyes. A strange yearning overtook him as it often did when he looked at her, as if he was missing something.

They began traipsing towards the Godswood when a young, fair haired boy of about 8 ran towards them.

“Milord,” he bowed, “Milady,” another bow, “Milady, I’ve got your horses-”

“Thank you Tom, I’ll speak to you when we return from our walk. I hope your sister is well now?” Sansa interrupted before the boy could complete what he was saying.

“Yes milady, the fever has broken, mother says she’ll be able to play again soon” Tom grinned, looking pleased.

“Well bring her to the Great Hall for supper again anyway, I’d like to see how she is” Sansa said, her eyes kind. She looked soft and warm and so inviting at moments like these, Jon wanted to pull her into an embrace and kiss her cheek. He always controlled himself though, her kindnesses to their people so frequent that if Jon indulged his fantasies every time they appeared, she’d never be away from his arms. Of course, he wouldn’t mind such an arrangement but he was sure she wouldn’t be interested and he didn’t want to force his affections on her. She seemed quite content with their current level of intimacy and Jon wasn’t going to push her to do anything she did not want.

“What was the boy saying about the horses?” Jon asked after Tom had left with another bow, thanking them profusely, the boy obviously delighted at the prospect of the hearty dinner he and his sister would be receiving that evening.

“I’ll explain in a bit Jon, let’s continue our walk first shall we?” she smiled as she pulled him along, leaning into him gently as he moved forward with her. She rested her head on his shoulder, auburn hair draping onto his back, Jon yearned to touch it. He decided to speak instead.

“Do you know why dragons sleep all day?” he asked.

“I didn’t know they did,” she replied, picking her head up from his shoulder, a look of confusion in her eye.

“So they can fly at wights,” he finished, awkwardly. Her expression was not one of amusement, she didn’t seem to understand.

“You see…wights sounds like nights…” he stammered, bringing them to a stop.

“Jon Snow,” she declared, eyes narrowed, “are you….trying to make a joke?”

“That was the idea, yes,” this suddenly seemed like a very bad idea. It had seemed like an excellent one in his head, he would make a silly play on words, and Sansa would give him a small laugh and lean into him further. She’d be in a good mood and maybe she’d even give him a kiss on cheek. She had done so in the past, when he’d had lemon cakes made for her nameday, when he’d come up with the idea of training the children, even when he’d complimented her newest dress.

She moved close to him and put her arms around his neck, burying her face into the side of his neck and started shaking. He felt a wetness on his neck, she was crying. What had he done? This was not good, this was the last thing he ever wanted, he had seen enough of her tears for a lifetime.

“Sansa….I….I’m so sorry…didn’t…’ he sputtered.

She pulled back, face red and splotchy but still utterly beautiful. It was then that he realised, she wasn’t crying, she was laughing. No guffawing. He didn’t think he had ever heard such sounds from Sansa. Unable to contain her mirth she doubled over.

“Jon, oh dear, Jon!” she continued laughing and gasping for breath, “Oh Jon,”

He was quite confused now, not to mention the odd, stifling feeling in his chest that was burgeoning at the sound of her breathy chanting of his name.

“I don’t quite understand,” he said, brows knitted.

She finally stopped to straighten her body and stepped closer to him, until she was close enough for him to see the pattern of her irises. The tightness of his chest still hadn’t abated, it was actually getting worse. Slowly she draped her left arm over his shoulder and brought up her right hand to caress his palm. He was quite sure his brain had stopped functioning, engulfed by the scent she wore every day, something flowery but heady.

“Were you trying to amuse your wife, my Lord?” she whispered, breath tickling his ear.

His response was a small nod.

“I daresay you’ve been quite successful,” she smiled and then gently placed the softest of kisses on his mouth. He thought he might spontaneously burst into flames then, but he remained frozen on the spot. She retreated slightly and took his hand.

“Shall we continue our walk then?”

All he could muster was a grunt, he still wasn’t functioning quite normally. She gripped his hand and pulled for a bit before he registered that he was supposed to move his legs. The rest of the walk passed in a daze, Sansa’s voice swirled around his head, while he kept touching his lips, trying to memorise the feel of hers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An adventure.

“Thank you Tom, I hope you’ve packed everything I’ve asked?” Sansa said to the stable boy.

“Yes milady, both your horses are ready, I’ve made sure they’re well fed and watered and just changed their shoes yesterday” he replied.

“Good boy” she gave him a smile that he returned in kind, then scampered off to get the block that she used as a step to mount her horse. 

“So this is what Tom was talking about earlier?” Jon grinned as he moved towards her. He intertwined his gloved hands, palms facing up and held them out for her, by the side of her mare.

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind me taking you away from the training yard” she replied, placing her left foot in the step his hands had created and swinging her right leg over the saddle. Tom returned with the block to see her already atop the horse. She waved her hand to indicate she had no need for it.

“Mind? I think I might burst from the curiosity to see what you have planned!” he exclaimed.

“Patience, Jon” she chided with a smirk. 

Jon walked to his own mount and gracefully swung into place. Longclaw at his side, hair pulled back, dressed in black, and Stark sigil plainly visible on the straps of his cloak he cut quite the intimidating figure. There was a time, one that she didn’t like to think about, when she used to feel a little intimidated herself. It wasn’t that she believed that he would ever use his power on her, but the Jon she had reunited with had been different from the Jon she had left. 

There was a darkness in him, something beyond the boy tortured by his bastard status. She did not fear him, she feared for him, and of that fear was born a strange, visceral need to protect him. She had done the best she could, it had been a laughable idea really, the little caged bird protecting the fearsome wolf. The Long Night only made it worse, she had believed that he was lost to her for good then. In those early days, when he had just returned from the war dark and broodier than ever, she watched him endlessly. When they ate their meals, when they met with the Lords, when they sat by the fire, she even sneaked into his bedchamber at night sometimes just to watch his chest rise and fall and hear him breathe. As though, if she watched him diligently enough, he wouldn’t be able to slip away from her.

He hadn’t, Jon had returned, Jon kept his promises, he kept every single one. It was more than she could say for any other man in this world. This man, her husband, a true knight if there ever was one. She didn’t fear for him anymore, well a maybe a little. She feared she’d never be able to get through to his great, thick head. His inability to make a move was infuriating. She’d actually gone ahead and kissed him today after his stupid joke, and still he hadn’t kissed her back. She had wanted to smack his pretty little face then.   
“What are you smiling to yourself about?” Jon’s voice snapped her out of her fantasies, of smacking Jon’s face, his chest, maybe even his backside if he irritated her further, “and where are you taking us?”

“Guess you’ll just have to follow me to find out, won’t you Jon?” and with that she gripped her reins tighter and spurred on her horse, breaking into a brisk canter.  
Jon followed after her with a laugh. She looked back at him with a competitive smirk and gave her horse a strong jab with her heels, urging it to go faster. It had been a while since she had been able to ride freely like this, it was exhilarating. To be out in the free countryside, on a beautiful day such as this. Winterfell was surrounded by a blanket of snow, it gleamed in the sunlight on this day, the sky a pretty blue that she had not seen since her childhood. Spring was approaching, Sam had told her yesterday after he’d received a raven from the Citadel. She could feel in her bones too, the unending chill surrounding her body had abated in the past weeks. The memory of the days when even a dream of warmth could not be had somewhat faded.

“Oh, so this is a race?” she heard Jon yell behind her, “If I cross you, then you’ll have to tell me where we’re going Sansa!”

“You can try Jon, but I don’t think your horse can gallop fast enough with such a great weight atop it!”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“YES!” 

They raced parallel to the boundary of the Wolfswood moving north. Sansa was glad to have worn riding breeches underneath her dress, her thighs would have been chafed bloody otherwise. She could feel her braid coming undone behind her, the tie she used to secure it having come loose. Jon was gaining on her, but he wasn’t able to pass her. He was wearing his leather armour, which he insisted on doing every time they left the walls of their home. With the added weight of that, his sword and the bags of supplies that he insisted should be on his horse, it was obvious his poor mount would not be able to outrun Sansa’s. She spotted the gnarled collection of tree stumps Brienne had told her about and pointed towards them.

“We’re approaching the finish line Jon!”

His grunt indicated he was trying to speed up, hoping to use the final burst of energy to finally beat her. It was of no use, Sansa lifted herself from the saddle and leaned forward, determined to win.

“Victory is mine!” she declared once she stopped, both arms up in the air, fists closed, chest heaving from exertion and excitement.

Jon slowed down and approached her, his own hair had come undone and he was quite pink in the face. He flashed her an open mouthed grin and caught his breath before declaring, “Lady Stark, how is it that you keep surprising me?”

“I’m full of surprises Jon, if you’d care to look” she replied suggestively.

“I see,” he replied, sliding off his horse and moving to hers, “I will extract each and every one of them from you today.”

“Will you?” she scoffed.

At that he took a quick stride towards her, put his arms around her waist and pulled her down. She managed to disengage her feet from the stirrups before she toppled onto him, but she wasn’t able to find her footing. She caught his shoulders to steady herself but the sudden shift of weight made them lose their balance and tumble to the ground with Jon beneath her. He let out a whoosh of air.

“Jon! Are you hurt?” she exclaimed, holding the sides of his head with her hands.

“No, I’m alright” he groaned under her.

“You stupid man, why did you do that? Haven’t you injured yourself enough already?” she said angrily.

“You called me fat.” 

“Your head is fat.”

“Oh, I’m stupid as well?”

“Ridiculously so” she replied indulgently, caressing his face. She ran her fingers gently down his cheek. He closed his eyes, seeming to enjoy her ministrations. She pushed his curls from his forehead and smoothed them over the top of his head. She traced her index finger along the shell of his ear, gently the caressing opposite one with her other hand. He hummed softly, she placed a palm on his cheek and brought her lips to his forehead. She left light kisses over his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, his jaw, and slowly worked her way to the corner of his mouth. His arms were around her now, one about her waist and the other just a little lower coming around to grip her hip, fingers digging into it. She moved to place a kiss on his lips, hovering over his mouth for a second before lowering herself to press against his pout. 

At that moment she was roughly pushed from her place on top of Jon by a flash of fur, she was rolled onto her back and then a great white beast was above her. He leaned down and began to lick her face vigorously. 

“Ghost!” Jon roared angrily, scrambling to his feet, “you big stupid oaf, get off her!” He tried vainly to push the direwolf away from her as she lay squealing below, attempting to shield her face from his slobbering tongue.

“GHOST! We do not attack Sansa!” he shoved at the wolf and managed to extricate Sansa from his wild affections. He pulled her up to stand and gave Ghost an angry look. The direwolf had sat back on his haunches looking quite reproachful.

“Sorry Sansa, I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” he murmured as he removed a piece of cloth from his jerkin and began wiping her face holding her chin with his hand, “he’s certainly never greeted me with this much enthusiasm” he added.

Sansa merely pouted and let him dry her face, feeling miffed. Did ghost have to return from his weeklong hunt at this very moment? Would Jon ever gather the courage to tackle her to the ground and shower her with affection? Her thoughts were interrupted by an awful stench.

“Jon, is that cloth clean? It stinks! It was inside your jerkin, was it not? It must be drenched with sweat” she cried.

“Um-”

“Where did you find the cloth?”

“Uh, you gave it to me, it has a direwolf embroidered in your hand.” He held up the yellowed cloth, which she remembered had been white and not covered in brown stains.

“Has it ever been washed?” her tone acquired a menacing edge. He looked down sheepishly.

“You see, it had a bit of your perfume on it and so I never-”

“You’re awful” she declared, but her tone was not as harsh as she had wished it to be and she knew her eyes had softened.

Jon gave her a half-smile and brought her a skin of water to wash her face. She wiped it with her own handkerchief this time. Ghost appeared bored and lay down with his head.   
“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Yes, but we must reach our destination first” Sansa replied climbing onto a tree stump and then her horse, “come on its not far now.”

Jon followed her lead with Ghost padding softly behind him. She followed the path described by Brienne. It led them into the Wolfswood, the trees were sparsely placed here and the floor of the forest was covered in the dried needles of evergreens. The fragrance of pine and juniper hung heavily in the air and every crack of twigs underneath the horses’ hooves seemed to echo. They conversed softly about mundane things. Jon asked what she had packed for lunch. Sansa told him about the fresh baked bread, apricot preserves, the slices of spiced ham, mashed parnsips, buttered carrots and the wine but saved mentioning the pastries filled with thick cream and strawberries he enjoyed. That was a surprise.

After a short while they reached her intended destination. A small clearing with a pond, about the size of Winterfell’s Great Hall. The surface was frozen, the ice like glass. The edges were decorated with flat topped grey stones of varying sizes, the smallest just large enough to place a foot on and the largest as big as a trestle table. That was where they’d be dining today.

“Wow” Jon breathed, “this is amazing Sansa. How did you find this?”

“A lady has her ways” she beamed.

“Shall we eat then? I’m starving.”

She nodded her assent and they started removing the food from the bags. Jon tied up the horses while she climbed her way up the rocks and laid a blanket on the largest rock. He followed her with their lunch and they began stuffing their faces hungrily. In the absence of their household they were free to eat as sloppily as possible. Jon chomped down his ham in a manner that could only be described as wolfish. Sansa herself had abandoned her manners and was steadily chewing her way through the loaf of bread, so fresh and soft, picking up lumps of preserves with her fingers and dropping them into her mouth with abandon. Today was a day of indulgence, she had even foregone her stays in preparation.  
They had remained mostly silent in their haste to eat. Ghost was dozing lazily at the foot of the rocks. As they finished off their rations Jon exhaled deeply and stretched his arms. He reclined next to her, unfolding his legs with a content expression on his face.

“I don’t think I’ve even enjoyed a meal that much in my life” he said looking up at her.

She smiled and replied, “Do you have place for dessert?”

His eyes lit up and he nodded, sitting up. She unwrapped a small tin that she had tucked to her side. She opened it and handed it over to him. 

“You had these made for me?” he asked reverently.

“Yes.”

“How did you know these were my favorite?”

“I saw the way your eyes lit up the few times we had them. It’s rare that you truly enjoy eating anything. That and of course, you ate twelve of them during our harvest feast” she giggled.

He stared silently at her for a moment, eyes filled with emotion. “Sansa I-I want to- Thank you,” he finished lamely, looking slightly embarrassed.

She moved closer to him and wrapped her arm around his. He picked up a pastry and held it up to her, indicating he wanted her to have the first bite. She bit into it gently, savouring the lovely mix of flavors and textures. Jon took a bite as well and declared he must be in some sort of paradise. They shared the dessert between them and when it was finished, Jon lifted his thumb to wipe some cream off the side of her mouth. Then, almost absentmindedly sucked his finger, lying back down with one arm behind his neck and bringing Sansa with him since she was still latched onto his other arm. He exhaled softly, wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her to him. She rested her head on his chest, then brought up her knee to place on his thigh. Jon let out a tiny snore at that moment. Sansa briefly considered punching him before a wave of tiredness overtook her and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already posted the first two chapters on tumblr. Will be posting in both places from here on out. Please let me know what you think! I've never really written anything before so it's always great to have feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> This is show-verse because I cannot write book-verse. Assume that this deviates from canon post season 6, Arya is alive but hasn’t re-united with our babies. I have a vague outline in my head, if it works out she’ll enter somewhere. Jon has asked to keep the Stark name and both Jon and Sansa have decided that they’ve had enough of crowns and are officially Lord and Lady of Winterfell.


End file.
